


Kiss Me, Gimme All You've Got

by animeangelriku



Series: Spooky Fanfic Week [2]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Drunken Kissing, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, M/M, SO, Spooky AU, also Amber's the one who hosts the party, also they get drunk and make out in a closet, but I still wanted to include her in the character tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 02:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8384341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animeangelriku/pseuds/animeangelriku
Summary: Prompt: Hugged/kissed wrong person in a costume like my friend’s.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Second fic of my Spooky Fanfic Week! I thought of just writing Klaine or CrissColfer fics, but I decided to instead take turns writing both couples because they're both my OTPs and I love them both. Also, this prompt was asked by [joickforever](http://joickforever.tumblr.com/), so here you have it! Thank you, and I hope you like it! 
> 
> You can also find it at my [Tumblr!](http://animeangelriku.tumblr.com/post/152323208897/crisscolfer-kiss-me-gimme-all-youve-got)

Chris didn’t like being a pirate. 

No, okay, that had come out wrong. He didn’t like _dressing up_ as a pirate. 

It wasn’t that Chris had anything against Halloween, or that he didn’t like occasionally dressing up in a fun costume to pretend to be something he wasn’t once a year. But if he was going to wear a costume, he wanted to wear one he had made instead of just buying a pre-made costume from a store. If he had made the pirate costume he was wearing now, he would have no problem with it. 

But he’d been too busy lately to make anything and he had thought Amber’s party was next weekend, not _tonight_ , and Amber kept insisting he wear it because how could he show up at a Halloween party without some sort of costume? So he’d gone to the store and bought one of the only remaining costumes because he could either dress up as a pirate or as a ghost—at least the pirate wasn’t just a sheet with two holes cut out of it. 

“Aw, don’t look so glum, Chris!” Amber said, bumping her shoulder against his as she handed him a drink. “You’re a hot pirate!”

Chris looked down at his ensemble: a white shirt with puffy sleeves down to only his elbows, a brown vest, a red sash around his waist, black pants, and a pair of dark brown boots. Amber had offered to lend him a hat or a bandanna to wrap around his head, but Chris had kindly rejected the offer—she had convinced him of wearing a clip-on hoop on his ear, though, and he had added a leather cuff to his wrist. 

“I don’t really think I qualify as a ‘hot’ pirate,” he told her. 

“Sure you do!” she cried. It looked like she was going to say something else, but then she simply patted his arm and left to greet more people walking through her door.

Chris sighed and leaned back against the wall he’d been standing by the entire evening. He slowly sipped from the drink Amber had given him, watching the different costumes worn by her other guests. There were only a couple more pirates, which didn’t really make him feel better but didn’t make him feel as bad as he thought he would, either. Other people were dressed as zombies, or characters from horror movies, and a few were just wearing a mask and a sweatshirt. God, Chris really wished he’d had time to make his own costume. As he took the last sip from his drink, he realized he was going to have to be drunker if he was going to survive the rest of the party. At least the music wasn’t ripping his eardrums in half. 

He went over to the table where Amber had placed the spiked punch bowl, muttering _Sorry_ and _Excuse me_ as he made his way between all the monsters in the room until he finally reached his destination. Chris refilled his plastic red cup and looked around at the different snacks on the table. He kind of wished his pirate pants had pockets, so he could just grab a few pieces of each and go back to leaning against the wall. 

He was about to find out how many snacks he could carry in one hand when he heard someone yelling, “Fucking finally, Joe, _there_ you are!” followed by two arms suddenly wrapping around his neck from behind, enveloping in a hug he wasn’t asked to participate in that almost made him spill his drink.

Chris’s entire body tensed. He didn’t know how to react, what to do, what to _think_ , and maybe the one drink he’d already had was starting to mess with him, because he found himself saying, “My… my name’s not Joe.”

Whoever had thrown their arms around him took them back as soon as Chris spoke, allowing Chris to turn around. In front of him was a guy who, first things first, was dressed as a boy scout. He had a pair of glasses on, and the flush on his cheeks and the embarrassment in his expression were oddly endearing to look at. 

“Oh my god,” the guy said. “Oh my god, I’m _so_ sorry,” he repeated, letting out a nervous chuckle. “I, uh—sorry, a friend of mine said he was dressed up as a pirate.”

Chris glanced around the room. “I’m not the only pirate here,” he said, and the guy in front of him chuckled again.

“No, yeah, I know,” he said. “But you were the only one who kinda looked like him from behind, so.” The boy scout looked down at his feet, as if he didn’t know if he should apologize or just walk away from Chris. In the end, he held out his hand. “I’m Darren. And I promise you I usually don’t glomp strangers in Halloween parties.”

“Glomp?” Chris asked. “It felt like you were trying to _tackle_ me.”

Darren laughed now instead of chuckling, and Chris noticed the blush was back on his cheeks. Maybe he was already a little drunk, or maybe he just blushed easily. Or maybe it was both. 

“Fair enough,” Darren said.

Chris shook Darren’s hand. “I’m Chris, by the way. Nice to meet you.” 

“Likewise!” Darren walked over to him to grab a plastic cup and pour himself some spiked punch. “So, are you a friend of Amber’s, or are you like, the friend of a friend of a friend?”

“No, uh,” Chris chuckled. “No, I’ve known Amber a few years now,” he answered, leaning back against the table. “If I was the friend of a friend of a friend, I probably wouldn’t have come.”

“Really?” Darren turned around and imitated Chris’s pose, leaning back against the table with one of his hands holding onto it. “Not a fan of costume parties?”

“Not a fan of costume parties with _strangers_ ,” Chris said as he drank from his cup. “I love dressing up and hanging around other people who also love to dress up, but when you only know two people in a room of at least sixty, then it’s a little pointless, I think.”

Darren let out a deep, long sigh before drinking from his own plastic cup. “But at least you’ve got someone to talk to in a sea of strangers, right?” He glanced at Chris at the same time Chris looked at him, and even though Chris felt uncomfortable with prolonged eye contact, he felt… almost drawn to Darren’s eyes, even through the glasses he was wearing, as if he could look at them for hours without the urge of pulling away, of breaking eye contact and shrug it off or laugh and change the topic of conversation. He… he kind of wanted to keep looking into Darren’s eyes for the rest of the night. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled. 

For a few more seconds, neither Chris nor Darren said anything else, and Chris had to wonder if they were actually just going to stay here, staring into each other’s eyes for the rest of the night. 

“Um.” Chris cleared his throat, but he didn’t look away. “You called me Joe?”

“Oh, uh.” Darren scratched his temple. “Yeah, well, I’m actually the friend of a friend of a friend,” he said, sipping from his spiked punch. “Joe’s the mutual friend between me and Amber, and since he’s the only one I would know in this party, I was looking for him. I should actually look for him, as a matter of fact…”

Chris didn’t know why he suddenly felt… disappointed. Then he slightly shook his head to clear his mind. It wasn’t Darren’s fault that Chris didn’t have any other close friends he could talk to—that was why Chris was drinking, to be able to talk to people without worrying too much about it. 

But then Darren groaned and threw his head back. “Nah,” he ended up saying. “I think I’ll let him find me instead. I’m having a good time here.” He glanced at Chris out of the corner of his eyes, and his bright mood diminished a little. “Unless you want me to go…?”

“What? No, no—” Chris cleared his throat again, drinking the last of his punch. “No, I don’t—I mean, I don’t mind you staying here.”

“Oh.” Darren grinned, and his eyes scrunched up and his entire face lit up and Chris almost burst out laughing because he realized how ridiculous yet adorable Darren looked dressed up as a boy scout. “Okay,” Darren said. “I guess I’ll stay here, then.” 

Something in his voice told Chris he didn’t mind this arrangement. 

*

Chris’s lips were red and sore and stained with the spiked punch they’d been drinking, but he didn’t care, oh, god, he _really_ didn’t care, just as he didn’t care about Darren’s discarded glasses somewhere on the floor around them.

“You smell really good,” Darren mumbled as he continued to kiss Chris, his hands on Chris’s waist, on the lower dip of his spine, on his shoulders, and Chris felt a shiver run through his entire body. He grasped Darren’s arms and brought him as close as he could, spreading his legs a little more so that Darren could comfortably settle between them, pinning Chris against the wall of a closet. Was it the guest room closet? A kitchen closet? Chris didn’t know. The only thing he remembered was that they’d stepped into the first door they’d come across. 

“You _feel_ really good,” he replied, and he felt more than he heard Darren moan against his lips. 

“I wanna see you again.” Darren pulled away from Chris’s mouth—and Chris whined, he _whined_ and he was glad he was _so_ drunk that all embarrassment he could’ve felt was thrown out the window—to kiss his neck instead, pressing his lips to Chris’s skin, sucking it between his teeth before kissing it again. Chris groaned out loud. “Can I see you again?”

“Uh-huh,” he whimpered. Anything Darren wanted as long as he kept doing that. His words slurred together the next time he spoke. “Wanna give me your number?”

“Yeah,” Darren said. “Yeah, okay.” He looked like he was going to move to the other side of Chris’s neck, but Chris was _desperate_ —so he grabbed the back of Darren’s head and brought his mouth back on top of his own, burying his fingers in Darren’s hair and _tugging_. 

Now Darren was the one to huff out a whine and holy _shit_ , Chris wanted to hear him do that again and again and _again_ and so he repeated the motion until Darren growled into his mouth and bit his lower lip. Chris moved his hands to Darren’s waist, and he had only begun to pull him forward to grind their hips together when Darren broke away from him and rested his forehead to Chris’s. 

“ _Noooo_ ,” Chris muttered. “No, _c’mon…_ ” He tried to kiss Darren again, but the stupid boy scout would turn his head away or pull back a little and the back of Chris’s head hit the wall when he leaned back against it, groaning in frustration. “Why aren’t we kissing anymore?”

Darren grinded his hips down, and Chris only had time to gasp brokenly before Darren’s hips were gone from his.

“That’s _not fair_ ,” he whined. 

“’Cause if I keep kissing you,” Darren whispered, his breath hot and reeking of spiked punch over Chris’s mouth, “I won’t be able to stop.”

“So don’t,” Chris replied, trying to tug Darren forward again. But Darren, _damn him_ , wasn’t the one pinned against the wall, and it was easier for him to pull away than it was for Chris. 

“I’m… _really_ fucking drunk,” Darren said with a laugh. This wasn’t a problem, Chris was just as drunk as he was, why was this the problem, _why were they not kissing anymore?_ “And if we’re gonna keep going, I wanna, y’know, _not_ be drunk when it happens.” 

Chris took a deep breath and exhaled it through his parted lips. That was actually… incredibly considerate. As much as Chris was enjoying this, he probably wouldn’t remember it in the morning. Or at least, he wouldn’t remember much of it. If they did something else… He didn’t want to wake up tomorrow feeling cheap and with only a hangover to make up for it. 

Besides, he—he really liked Darren. Actually _liked_ him. And he was sure that wasn’t the alcohol talking for him, he genuinely wanted to see Darren again after this. 

“Yeah,” Chris said in the end. “Yeah, you’re right.” 

Darren leaned in to softly kiss him, just like he had done about half an hour ago—the kiss that had eventually brought them here. “I still want your number, though,” he said, and Chris wanted to swallow his words and just keep kissing him. 

“Me too,” he admitted, feeling lightheaded at the thought of doing this again when alcohol wasn’t what had caused Darren to kiss him and Chris to suggest going somewhere more private. “So what’d you say to an invitation for breakfast tomorrow?”

“I’d say, make it an invitation to brunch,” Darren answered. “’Cause I’m probably still gonna be unconscious for breakfast.”

Chris’s laugh was contagious enough to make Darren laugh, too, and they were still chuckling and giggling when Chris grabbed Darren by the back of his neck. “Brunch tomorrow, then.”

“Sounds good.” Darren’s hands were on his hips, his thumbs drawing circles over Chris’s pirate sash. “After more kissing.”

Now _that_ was something Chris could agree on. “After more kissing.”


End file.
